


All The Small Things

by ForgottenChesire



Series: Christmas '19 [8]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Minor Character Death, Minor Original Character(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:00:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23237356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForgottenChesire/pseuds/ForgottenChesire
Summary: It's all the small things that give them away. Four unique views of small things that prove that Spock and Jim love each other.
Relationships: Ben Sulu/Hikaru Sulu (mentioned), James T. Kirk/Spock
Series: Christmas '19 [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1603357
Comments: 14
Kudos: 65





	All The Small Things

**Author's Note:**

> This is a very late Christmas present for a friend... Also David when your reach him, I've been pronouncing his name like Ziva David from NCIS aka Da-veed.

It’s the little things that give them away. The things that are overlooked or easily explained away. And if she didn’t know them better, she would be one of them. You could easily wave away the touching, the leaning. As annoying as her Captain is, as frustrated that he makes her feel, Jim is a creature of habit and touch. You know Jim Kirk  _ doesn’t  _ like you if he doesn’t touch you. If there are no shoulder pats. No hand at your back or arms bumping into your own. He touches. Like a scent marking cat. Always touching.

She isn’t sure why they are trying to hide the relationship. Sticking to such small overtures. The crew has a bet going. Maybe Leonard told them. Got them, got Jim to hold off on the larger shows of affection until he wins the pot. Nyota shakes her head, laughing at herself for overthinking things. Whatever the reason, they’re annoyingly cute. She knows that she and Spock were never that cute even with all the very public and human kisses they shared.

“Be careful,  _ t’hy’la _ .”

Jim laughs, and she watches as he slaps Spock’s shoulder. His eyes are bright as he bounces on his toes.

“Always am, Mister Spock, and if I didn’t know better I’d think you were worried.”

Spock raises an eyebrow at their Captain. Mouth opening and lecture incoming about past experiences and statistics. 

Yes, it’s the little things that give them away. 

* * *

Away missions are always an adventure. Sulu knows this like he knows that his daughter hates broccoli no matter how much Ben covers it in cheese. Like he knows that Jim is madly in love with Spock and Spock is in love with their Captain though neither have publicly said so. It’s the little things, ya know? Just like it’s little things that can change an away mission from being fun, that planet filled with plants that sang for example, to terrifying, the planet that was supposed to be nothing but dust and rock but had creepy sand monsters that ate eyes. 

It’s them not noticing that the plants track the away party and not the sun. It’s not noticing the lack of hot blooded animals, or any animals, anywhere near the area they landed on. It’s the ground shaking and vines wrapping around them.

Little things add up. Be it being kidnapped by eight foot tall plant aliens who want to eat them or love. Sulu rests against Spock. He thinks he’s dying, blood is flowing from a wound on his head. Pretty sure he’s going to die and Ben will never forgive him. He’s going to be eaten by plants. It's… ironic, maybe? To be eaten by something he loves.

“You will not die,” Spock says confidently. His eyes tracking the frantic pacing of their Captain. Jim looks like a tiger, dirt stripes and blood patches. They’ve already lost Lieutenant Ives. Her screams bounce in Sulu’s mind. Mixing with the memories of Demora’s laughter and the sound of Ben’s voice.

“We will get you to Doctor McCoy and he will… fix you up.”

Sulu laughs, coughs a bit, hand clumsily patting at Spock. The human phrase falls awkwardly from Spock’s lips, but Sulu appreciates the attempt.

“I’d believe you a bit more if you looked at me when you said that,” he manages to slur out.

Maybe he falls asleep. Maybe time sped up and ceased to exist. All he knows is that the next thing he is conscious of, that he  _ feels _ , is his chest connecting with Spock’s back. He sees Jim’s bright blue eyes on him, or more precisely on Spock. Sees, fights to keep looking at the Captain not quite knowing what is happening, those eyes following Spock as he runs. There is fire and yelling and the smell of cooked broccoli in the air. He thinks he’s going to join Demora in hating it.

* * *

“Keptain?” Chekov speaks lowly, never taking his eyes off the predator that prowls just outside of the invisible fence. The villagers had warned them that the night was dangerous.

Jim doesn’t speak. It’s never good when he doesn’t speak. Chekov knows that he is still behind him. Can hear twigs break underneath his Captain’s boots.

“Fuck.”

Something connects with the fence, sizzling and sparking.

“Fuck!”

Finally Chekov looks away from the feline form. From the six eyes. From the three stingers and giant fangs. From dripping fur and deadly grace. He looks away from it to stare at the Captain.

Jim isn’t pacing. He’s shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Blue eyes darting about frantically. One hand pulling at his hair. Ensign David is sitting pale and panting at his feet.

“Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.”

Chekov takes a step toward Jim.

“Mister Spock is strong and smart. He will be fine,” he tries to sooth. Crazed eyes flick onto his face and then down to David and then to the creature wanting to eat them.

Hikaru had said that the Captain was in love. Told him to watch for the little things. The private things, Nyota had added. Gentle things that make a man go mad, his papa would have said. And he can see it. Can see it in the way Jim is fighting the urge to run back in the forest. To search for Spock who was separated from them. Torn between duty and love.

“Keptain-”

“I’m fine. Everything is fine. Spock is capable.”

He’s speaking to himself.

“Alright. Shifts. We need to take shifts. Make sure the bastard doesn’t get in and that David doesn’t die. You aren’t allowed to die, you hear me?”

Whether the Captain is talking about David or Spock, Chekov isn’t sure. All he knows is that waiting for daylight on a planet with longer nights than mornings is nerve wracking. Creatures far stranger than the feline prowl, most giving them an uninterested sniff or being scared off by the cat. 

David manages to survive the night. Wound purple and festering. The sunlight is weak but enough to drive off the feline. The night, as they were unfortunate enough to learn, caused their communicators to malfunction. Now in the day they chirp and yell.

On the  _ Enterprise _ , David rushed to the medbay Chekov sees Spock power walk over to Jim, batting away McCoy as the doctor tries to scan him. Hands are held tightly behind his back. The half Vulcan does not touch. Jim reaches out first. Both hands grabbing, patting at arms. It’s only then that his body loosens.

* * *

Scotty notices things. Small changes in how the engine purrs. The noises that his domain makes. He knows each rumble and groan. Each ping and pong. He  _ notices _ those. Has to notice them. Or else they go boom in the mighty black of space. Not a way that he particularly wants to go. And his lady, the  _ Enterprise, _ doesn’t want him to go that way either. 

Machines he understands. Can read like books. People. People and aliens and other sentient beings. They are harder for Scotty to understand. Which is why he really shouldn’t be playing poker against the good doctor, Chekov, Keenser and Sulu. Jim, brilliant, sunny Jim who doesn’t insult Scotty’s third baby, the shine they are drinking, should be here too. But the man is late and Scotty has lost three hands too many to a man he never thought would have a poker face.

“Come on, Scotty, you’ve got to have something better than this. Bourbon? I’d take rum,” McCoy says with a grimace. Chekov is also cringing as he drinks, but  _ he _ at least has the decency not to say anything.

“Alright. If it’ll stop yer whinging, I’ll go check to see what else I have.”

He’s muttering about ungrateful bastards when he stumbles upon them. Too wrapped up in themselves to notice anyone else. They aren’t doing anything to win Scotty the nice pot they have growing in whether or not they’re dating. Just standing close to each other. Gazing into each other’s eyes. Like they’re about to either kill each other or kiss. And then Spock raises up two fingers. Without looking away Jim touches two of his own to Spock’s.

“You really should join.”

Scotty doesn’t stick around to hear what Spock says. He’s got winnings to collect. He may not know much about people, but he knows enough to know a Vulcan kiss when he sees one. Small thing that it is, it’s enough to win the secondary pot!

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the [LLF Comment Project](https://longlivefeedback.tumblr.com/llfcommentproject), which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
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